


Off Script

by snackbaskets



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (they figure it out), Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Communication is hard, Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Latino Jason Todd, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also jason makes an entire staff Love him, and jason just being Baby, daddy!Bats, fluff and comfort, sensory issues, which means he doesnt match up to bruces scripts all the time, wink wink implied autistic spectrum bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 04:52:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snackbaskets/pseuds/snackbaskets
Summary: It's a bustling charity gala, and Jason's having a rough night. Bruce might not be the best at knowing how to help Jason and his many, many emotions, but he's certainly willing to try.





	Off Script

**Author's Note:**

> OHHH MY LORD YOU GUYS.. I HAD SO MUCH POSITIVE FEEDBACK ON MY LAST DRABBLE IM STILL REELING
> 
> IVE SEEN A LOT OF POSITIVITY FOR DCU FAN CONTENT BUT I HAD NO IDEA.. YOU ALL ARE SO SWEET IT MAKES MY WHOLE DAY AND FUELS ME TO WRITE MORE DUMB BATFAM SCRUMBLES BLESS YOUR HEARTS 
> 
> this one isnt much for humor like the last one and is a bit more wordvomit-y but i hope people enjoy it!! i read every comment even if its just "cute!" and every one makes my Universe <33

There were not a great many things a man could want, surrounded by the wealth and opulence of old Gotham families. 

“Oh, Brucie, darling, how’s your boy doing?”

“Hello, Julia. Pleasure to see you again. And Jason is well, thank you. He’s here, if you’d--”

“Forgive me, but I meant Richard. He’s grown rather handsome, hasn’t he? Where is he?”

“At boarding school, I’m afraid. He’s quite taken with Europe, and simply insisted on schooling there.”

“What a shame.”

He would not want for food, certainly. Surrounded by it, all of the highest caliber on sparkling glass plates. Drink, neither, not with the whirlwind of waiters and their shining platters of sparkling wines, each glass worth more than a working man’s monthly wages. He’d definitely never be without companionship if he didn’t want to be, not with handsome men and women fluttering about his arms and begging to be swept up in a night of Gotham’s gold and gluttony without a moment’s hesitation.

Bruce tucked into his champagne and tried to ignore how Mrs. Beaumont fluttered her eyes at him, adjusting her jewelry and twisting pieces of hair around her fingers. 

“How’s your husband?”

“He’s well, last I saw him. Always off on a new business venture, that one. I can’t help but feel rather lonely.”

What more could a Gotham prince want?

“I used to feel the same, but the boys bring plenty of life to the house, nowadays.”

Bruce, personally, wanted to go home to his damn bed. 

Here, at galas and charity events and parties like these, the scripts were clear and familiar, but it didn’t mean he much felt like playing along. He knew what attraction looked like, knew it in the particular shade of red on Beaumont’s lips, the coy tilt of her shoulders, the wide distortion of her pupils, and he replied to them with the careful idiocy of a man who had no idea someone’s wife was trying to drag him into a broom closet. 

“How’s your daughter?” Bruce asked, contemplating the merits of concussing himself on the nearest wall, “She’s still interested in nursing school?”

“She’s well. Says she’d like to care for children.”

“That’s good to hear. Lord knows Gotham could always use more compassionate souls like that.”

“I can’t imagine it. I used to dread tending to her when she was younger. I can’t begin to fathom what it was like raising a spritely boy like Richard.”

“A lot of pulling him off light fixtures.”

“Oh, goodness! Now we know how you’ve stayed so trim!” She laughed into her glass, letting it linger on her mouth for far longer than was necessary. “That Todd boy must be a holy _nightmare_ , though. I could never care for such a thing. You must be so _stressed_....” She reached up and smoothed a hand over Bruce’s shoulder, and it was only by virtue of his Batman training and Alfred’s careful instruction of manners that he didn’t slap the hand away. He grit his teeth and made it look like a smile.

“Jason’s settling in quite well, I think. He’s very pleasant to be around.”

Perhaps he’d cause another tabloid incident, tonight. Conveniently spill his champagne on a poor lady’s nice dress. 

“Of course, but isn’t it difficult--”

“Er, begging your pardon, monsieurs. If I may speak to Mr. Wayne for a moment?”

Bruce looked away from where Mrs. Beaumont was flagrantly pushing her breasts at him to the Powers’ haggard butler, Adam, who was twisting his kerchief between his hands and hovering like he expected to have a glass tipped over his head. Bruce made a note to thank him later.

“Adam, my boy! Of course.” Bruce dropped a hand the boy’s shoulder and steered them both away from Mrs. Beaumont and her enthusiastic shimmying. “Is everything alright?”

“Ah, Mr. Wayne--”

“I’ve known you since you were Jason’s age, son, there’s no need for formalities.”

He laughed, edgy and breathless.

“Monsieur Bruce, then. It’s, ah, on that note, actually. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to control your ward.”

Bruce frowned. He’d been paying attention, and Jason had done nothing particularly offensive the last he checked. Then again, what Bruce classified as ‘offensive’ and what the Powers did may have been two very different categories. It had happened before.

“Has he done something wrong?”

“Not wrong, per say, but he’s been… distracting the staff from their duties. Mr. and Mrs. Powers only worry about the quality of hosts they can be.”

“I’ll speak to him, then. Do you know where he’s off to?”

Jason was ducking in and out of the kitchen doors, same as he’d been all night, but Brucie Wayne wouldn’t have been sober enough to be paying attention.

“Last I saw, he was hanging about the kitchen, right over there.” Adam pointed out the shiny metal doors, and Bruce gave him his best press smile and patted the butler on the cheek.

“I’ll take care of it, chum. Give yourself a moment to relax.”

A waitress brushed past him as Bruce approached the doors, and he got a glimpse of black curls and a crooked smile inside the galley as she did. The young lady made a frantic attempt to steer Bruce off by asking what he was looking for, but he waved her off with a charming grin and a coy ‘a young man who ought to be outside’ and she let him through. 

Jason didn’t notice him as he moved through the doors, too caught up in some rapid-fire chatter between he and a handful of servicefolk on their breaks, cards flying between his fingers almost as fast as the muddled Spanish-English-Gothamite that spilled from his lips. 

“You really ought to find a better dealer,” Bruce mused, dropping a hand on Jason’s shoulder and beaming at the other players around the table. “I’d bet my wits he’s got half the deck hidden up his sleeves.”

“Wh-- B! Whadda ya doin’ in here?”

Bruce leaned over and snagged a pair of kings from the inside of Jason’s wrist before the boy could react, dropping them on the table and winking.

“Looking for where my son’s been off to all night.”

One of the other players pointed at the boy in question, making grabby hands at the jackpot.

“Oye, tu gordo esta perdido, tramposito!”

Jason darted out, hooking his arm around the pile of wrapped mints he’d collected and hugging them close.

“Like ‘chu ain’t got an ace debajo del culo, calvoso,” he shot back, and Bruce cuffed him gently around the ear. He’d be worried about mussing the work Alfred had done on the boy’s hair, had it not been so obviously tousled by what must have been every other person in the kitchen, already.

“Language.”

The worker who’d spoke turned pink.

“Pues, tu papá habla español?” he squeaked at Jason, who looked similarly mortified.

Bruce just raised his hands and shrugged.

“I never heard a thing. Jason, you ought to come out for a little bit.”

Jason shot him a sour look.

“I don’t wanna. Everyone out there’s a rich prick.”

There was a collective intake of breath, like that on the first serve of a tennis game, and the atmosphere of the room grew much colder. The servicefolk around the table slowly started sliding out of their seats, twitching and glancing at one another. Across the room, a woman cutting vegetables slowed enough the hear them talking, shoulders still. Jason either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“I told you this was part of the deal, son. You’ve got to get out for an hour or two, is all.”

“An _hour_? Bruce, you nuts? They fuckin’ hate me out there!”

“ _Language_. That isn’t true.”

“No? How come they look at me like I’m rabid, then, huh?”

“Because you stare at them like you’re going to bite them. It won’t be that bad. You can stay next to me. Just an hour, Jason.” He wrapped a hand around his bicep-- loose, Jason wasn’t like Dick, didn’t like being grabbed or hung onto-- and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to do. The boy lurched away from him, slamming his hands on the table and sending his chair skidding across the floor. His breaths were fast and uneven, fists clenching at his sides.

Around them, half the staff had fled, and those who remained either flinched back or took a protective step forward.

“I said _no_!” he shouted. “I’m not goin’ out there!”

Bruce held his hands out, trying to move closer and only succeeding in making Jason scoot back. He never knew what to do when Jason got upset. He just needed to calm him down before it turned into a meltdown and Bruce was _really_ helpless. 

“Jason… let’s go somewhere else and discuss this,” he tried. “You’re interrupting their work.”

The woman who was cutting vegetables moved even closer, knife white-knuckled at her side and eyes set with grim determination. When she spoke, Gotham came in the exhale over her tongue. 

“He’s not goin’ nowhere, y’hear? You can talk right here.”

She shifted her grip, and Bruce noted the bruise on her forearm, partially hidden by the brown of her skin. He made another note, this one to look into the Powers’ treatment of their people and maybe pay the happy couple a corrective visit from the Bat. Explained the twitchy behavior, at the very least. 

Jason noticed it too, and hugged his arms, jaw locked shut and eyes cast at the floor. If there was anything he hated more than feeling vulnerable, it was making other people feel the same.

“No, it’s… it’s okay, Thalia. He ain’t like that. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure, tramposito?” The player from earlier asked, though the name was fond.

“Sí.”

Bruce gave Jason his space as they walked out, watching as he curled into himself and mushed himself against the wall while he followed Bruce out to a balcony beyond the reception hall. They were almost definitely not meant to be there, but he had a feeling no staff would come to oust them.

He turned to his boy, shedding Brucie and settling into something more honest, because that was what Dick and Alfred preferred, and tried to ignore the uncertain squirm of his nerves that came with being in uncharted waters. Jason was just so _irrational_ and _soft_ , all raw emotion and short fuses, and Bruce was left feeling he was walking a minefield every time.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” he began, and it was yet again the wrong thing to say. It seemed to be a habit, with Jason.

“I _told_ ya why I’m upset! I don’t wanna stand around gettin’ looked at like a fuckin’ zoo exhibit!”

“Language,” Bruce said absently, because that was the scripted-- and therefore safest-- response. Jason scowled.

“That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. I don’t do this right, not like Dick. You don’t even want me out there, embarrassin’ ya with my _language_.”

“If I didn’t want you to come, Jason, I simply wouldn’t have invited you. I’m very happy that you’re here.”

“Sure don’t feel like it! I stand around wit’chu and you send me off to ‘get somethin’ to drink’ soon as someone important shows up, but when I stay outta the way like you’re wantin’, you come draggin’ my ass back out there again! I don’t get it, Bruce! I don’t know what‘chu want from me!”

“I never asked you to say out of the way, Jason, why would you think that?”

“Everybody knows ‘go get yourself a drink’ means ‘you’re fuckin’ up, go away.’”

Bruce… did not know that. He filed it away for later reference.

“I encouraged you to get a drink because I thought you might be thirsty, and were waiting to be excused. You often express anxiety in taking unprescribed actions, and I thought you might feel better if I told you it was alright.”

“Unprescribed-- who talks that that, B! Like you’re some fuckin’ robot! And if you say ‘language’, I’m gonna jump off the damn window, don’t think I won’t!”

Bruce huffed. “I’m trying to be transparent and direct with my words to prevent further miscommunication.”

“No tiene sentido!”

“I told you I didn’t intentionally send you away. Why are you still angry?”

“Why am I still _angry_? You wanna know why I’m _angry_ , B?”

“If I didn’t, or thought I could understand it on my own, I wouldn’t have asked, Jason,” Bruce replied calmly.

Jason dug his hands into his hair and tore out a furious scream, face red.

“I’m angry ‘cause I _try_ to do what people want, I _try_ to read between the lines, but that ain’t enough for you! It never is! I’m only ever _wrong_!”

“Misunderstandings happen. You’re not--”

“I’m angry ‘cause they won’t stop fuckin’ _lookin’_ at me, and the lights from their stupid chandeliers are too damn bright, and everyone’s tryna _talk_ and they’re all so _loud_ , and they keep _touchin’_ me, and everything smells like their stupid fuckin’ perfume, and I want my mamá, and I _hate_ this!”

Jason’s voice raised in volume until he was howling, hands dug into his hair and face, to Bruce’s horror, streaked with tears. 

“It-- it’s alright,” he tried, to no effect. “I’m here with you, you’re okay.”

“No it’s _not_!” Jason wailed. “Nada está bien! Quiero irme a _casa_!”

“We can go home, if you want.” 

Jason didn’t reply, curling into himself and crying harder, gripping his hair so hard it must had been painful. Bruce floundered, debating the merits of calling Alfred and asking what to do, asking what the butler did and how it never failed to calm Jason from his tantrums like Bruce never could. He found himself wishing, childishly, that his father were here. Thomas used to know how to calm Bruce as a boy when he was lost like this, help him right his head so he could think clearly again when the world became louder than his own thoughts and he wished his father were here to do it now--

But Thomas was gone. There was only Bruce, and a little boy who needed him to be someone who cared. Trying was the least he could do. 

Bruce reached out and cupped the sides of Jason’s head between his palms, ignoring the boy’s furious screech at having his space disrupted and instead dragging him against his own chest, pressed right against his heart with his shoulders hunched over Jason’s bony little body like a shield from the world. To say Jason was momentarily unhappy would be kind; his tiny, vicious hands clawed at Bruce’s arms and chest as he squirmed, caught somewhere between trying to push him away and hang onto his shirt. Bruce curled his palms closer around Jason’s ears, pressing his chin to the mess of curls atop his head. 

“Listen, Jason,” he commanded, and put as much Batman into it as he dared in the open night air. “Listen to my heart, son.”

Slowly, Jason’s furious pummeling turned into angry, aborted yanks on the fistfuls he’d grabbed of Bruce’s shirt, and from there, it dissolved into nothing but weak, shaking sobs. When Bruce was small, this would be the point he’d push away from his father and go back about his business, but Jason didn’t stray, smashed against Bruce’s body like he was trying to hide in it. He briefly contemplated letting the boy go, but it simply felt… _wrong_ to push him away, and this time, he trusted his instinct, even if the script disagreed. Once he’d stopped screaming and swearing, reduced instead to watery hiccups and whimpers, Bruce slowly eased his hands from Jason’s ears to card through his hair and rub circles on his back, hoping that, for once, he was making the right move. 

“Lo siento,” Jason rasped, finally quieted, and Bruce sighed. He bent down enough to wrap an arm around the back of his legs and heft him up, settling him against his hip in the way Dick used to like, on the rare occasion he felt like sitting still. Immediately, Jason wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders, burying his face against his neck, warm and damp from his crying. “Por favor, no me eches.”

“Of course not, chum,” he said softly. “I asked you to stay with me; I’m not going to send you away.”

“...Promise?”

“I swear on Alfred, himself.”

Bruce didn’t much believe in luck, but there must have been some force out there watching, because Jason hugged him tighter instead of pushing him away. Two right things in a row, without even the consideration of a script. Barbara would call it a scientific miracle. 

“You can… you can go back inside, if you gotta,” Jason said, in a way that implied he would absolutely not like Bruce to go back into the gala. “I’d be alright. I know you got--” Sniffle. “--shit to do. Y’don’t have to stick around ‘cause-a me.”

“Hn. I don’t feel like dealing with any more rich pricks tonight.” Jason choked out a startled laugh and Bruce adjusted him on his hip, smiling. “Let’s go home, instead.”

Jason nodded.  
“Okay,” he sighed. Then, softer, so quiet Bruce might have missed it if he couldn’t feel the shape of the words against his collar, “Gracias, papi.”

He swallowed his apprehension and, after a moment’s nervous deliberation, pressed a clumsy kiss to the crown of Jason’s head. Jason hugged him tighter, and in a rare change of pace, Bruce knew the decision had been the right one. 

“Of course, son.”

**Author's Note:**

> also, ive never written jason or his Funky Gothamite before so if anyones got tips on his way of talking/accent stuff feel free to let me know!! i know accents in writing are a tricky line between Cool and Literally Wanting To Die so id love hearing what people think <3


End file.
